


keeping a comfortable distance

by skellington



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, M/M, Self-Discovery, and he'll do whatever michael asks of him, anxious ashton, ashton is a weird writer, ashton loves michael a lot, but that's because they just don't get it, grayromantic au, grayromantic!michael, luke and calum are SLIGHT assholes, michael is an introvert, michael works at a pet store, this was supposed to be a oneshot but oh well, with a bird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-02 17:29:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2820350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skellington/pseuds/skellington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael falls in love, but he doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SOOOOO HELLO this is a crack au i guess  
> i reference and quote an article from asexuality.org, taken from their AVENwiki, and i suggest reading through it!! it's very informational 
> 
> disclaimer: gray-romantic can be defined in many ways, and everyone has their own different experience. i'm writing based off of mine, so just remember that there is an entire spectrum and not every grayro thinks like this!!

 

Luke and Calum are in love.

Michael wonders what that's like.

They kiss and hug and hold hands and text each other when they're not together and they whisper sweet things in each other's ear. They promise each other forever.

Michael doesn't see the appeal. Well, maybe he sees it in the little things, like the hand holding and the nice touches and sweet kisses, but he doesn't understand the hype behind commitment, or labels.

He's never understood it, not one bit.

He's watched all of his friends fall in love, been to weddings and engagement parties and the like, and he's never been involved, and that's okay with him. He's content with staying off the playing field, just watching the game. He prefers it that way. He doesn't like it when Calum and Luke look at him with pity-filled eyes, hates when they try to set him up with people, and absolutely _loathes_ when they ask him, "Mikey, aren't you lonely?"

Because he's not. He's not lonely, he has Luke and Calum and he rings his family a lot and he's got his friends Harry and Niall and Taylor and he's happy. He doesn't need someone kissing his temple and calling him baby to make him whole, and he hates sharing his bed with people anyway. It gets too hot under the covers and he always ends up falling off.

It's not like Michael doesn't experience attraction, because he does -- he falls in love with someone new everyday, imagines a cute little house somewhere far off with them and a tiny family, maybe with a puppy - but in the end, he's happier on his own. The thought of dating, relationships - it all makes Michael's chest constrict, makes him want to runaway. And he usually does; when things get too heavy, when the topic of _dating_ is even _mentioned,_ he flees. He takes back anything he'd ever said, and leaves. Being with someone in that way makes him feel suffocated and tied down and kind of repulsed and always anxious and Michael hates it.

It's not like Michael wants strictly platonic relationships, either. He likes kissing. He likes sex. He likes intimate touches and sweet words. But he doesn't want romance. Romance takes away Michael's ability to breathe, and not in the good way.

 

His friends and family are worried, because Michael is at the age now where he should be looking to fall in love, trying to find his missing piece; but instead of going out and meeting new people, Michael likes to spend his time alone. Being alone recharges Michael, lets him reboot. People can be too much, sometimes. That's another reason Michael doesn't like the idea of romance, because it either ends badly or you're going to end up married. Michael doesn't want either. Being with someone 24/7 sounds _exhausting._

 

Michael is on a lunch date with Calum and Luke late in the afternoon one day, and one minute they're discussing the way a monkey's mind works compared to a human's and then suddenly, the subject of Michael's love life is brought up. He doesn't know how, or why, but he does know that he's not the one who started it, and it's irritating him.

"So, Mikey. Have you met someone special yet?" Luke asks, and he looks hopeful, but also like he knows the answer. Michael doesn't know why he tries, honestly.

"No," is Michael's answer, and Luke and Calum sigh like they were expecting something else. It's been this way since as long as Michael can remember; Luke and Calum running around, chasing after boys and girls and in-betweens, breaking hearts and getting theirs broken in return, with Michael staying as far away as he can manage. Luke and Calum fell in love, day in and day out, and Michael adored people, admired them, but without emotion. It's nothing new, been this way since they were kids.

"Michael, aren't you lonely?" Calum asks, and there it is: the age old question. _Aren't you lonely?_

Michael scoffs and rolls his eyes. He's answered this question a million times over.

"Mikey, what are you so afraid of?" Calum pushes, bordering exasperation.

" _Nothing,_ Calum. I'm not afraid of anything. I'm just not interested," Michael spits.

"Michael, surely you're interested in love. Everyone wants love. It's... It's not normal, if you don't," Luke says, and Michael cringes.

_Not normal._

_Everyone wants love._

_Not normal._

Things hit Michael like a freight train. It's never occurred to him that his disinterest was abnormal. He's never questioned it. But now, now he sees why it's so weird to Calum and Luke, with their arms wrapped around each other, so in love, staring at this boy who's never been in love, never been _close._ They see beauty in love, and don't get why Michael sees doom. Michael worries his bottom lip between his teeth, because he's _not normal._

"You're- you're right. I don't know, I guess I just haven't found the right person yet," Michael lies, lies because he knows that if he told them that love looks bleak and suffocating, they'd _surely_ be worried then, maybe recommend him to a psychiatrist.

"You know, I think I'm gonna head back home. I've got reading to catch up on," and that's not quite a lie. He leaves the restaurant quickly, without waiting for his friends to say goodbye, and he thinks he hears Calum smack Luke on the chest and Luke asking, "What did I say?", but he doesn't care. He doesn't care about anything right now, he just wants to know what's going on inside that messy head of his. He runs outside with his head down, not bothering to watch where he's going, so he doesn't realize that there's a broad boy with curly hair heading in his direction until they smack into each other and fall to the ground. The other boy recovers quickly and stands before Michael does, and apologizes profusely while trying to help Michael up.

"I'm so sorry, so sorry. I- I shouldn't text while I walk, I'm so sorry. Are you hurt?" Michael cuts him off before the boy says much else, because he's still too caught up in his tangle of thoughts to process anything happening around him.

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine. It's really fine, mate, I've- I've gotta," Michael says, sentence dropping off as he hurries away. He hears the boy calling after him, "Bye! Sorry, again!"

Michael doesn't turn around.

 

 

 

Michael gets to his flat and takes a deep breath. It's nice, being home again, because he can finally breathe and try to clear his head. There's no one here to bother him, no Calum or Luke to wear him down. He can charge now, try to pull his head together. He breathes in and out as he goes to the fridge to pour himself a glass of milk before he goes through this terrifying romanticism crisis.

He looks at his laptop forlornly. Here goes.

 

He searches: _what does it mean when i dont want romance but i feel attraction_

One of the first results is a Yahoo!Ask, asking the same thing Michael did but reworded, and the top answer is a suggestion that maybe the inquirer is gray-romantic. Michael doesn't know what that means, so he looks it up. The first result is, **Gray-romantic - AVENwiki -** on _asexuality.org_. He clicks on it and it takes him to a lavender themed page that reads:

 

**Gray-romantic**

A **gray-romantic (grey-romantic)** is a person with a  romantic orientation that is somewhere between aromantic and romantic.

For example, a gray-romantic may:

  * Experience romantic attraction, but not very often.
  * Experience romantic attraction, but not desire romantic relationships.
  * Desire relationships that are not quite platonic and not quite romantic.



 

 He reads through it carefully, and when he's done reading, he closes out quickly. This- _no._ This isn't a thing. This- this isn't normal, is it? People are supposed to want love, they want romance and marriage and commitment.

Michael's not.. He's not.

He just hasn't met the right person. That's all.

 

 

 Michael forgets about what he read soon after. He's got too much going on, what with his new job at the pet store and his classes starting back up. There's no time for romance, even if Michael wanted it.

He's playing with the kittens on display in the back of the store on a slow Wednesday, when someone walks in. He looks up from the cute little calico in his hands and smiles. He recognizes the person as the boy as the one he ran into on his lunch date with Luke and Calum.

"Um, hi," the boy says, kind of awkwardly, eying the cat in Michael's arms warily. He's shifty and jittery, tugging on his sleeves and biting his lip. He looks nervous, and Michael isn't quite sure why, but he wants to make this boy feel at home. Michael's fallen in love today.

The boy is pretty, and Michael nearly regrets not getting a better look at him earlier. He's got fluffy, curly hair and flushed cheeks, deep dimples even noticeable when he's not smiling, and warm (but nervous, always nervous) hazel eyes. Michael wants to wake up to them. (He thought the same about all of his past loves, though.)

"Hi. I'm Michael, how may I help you today?" He asks, putting on his helpful employee persona, but with a bit more genuineness. He gives the boy a wide smile that he hopes is welcoming.

 It seems to help. He eases in front of Michael's eyes, although still tense, but he calms some and smiles shyly. It's cute. He's cute.

"Um, I'm Ashton. I guess you didn't really need to know that, though. S-sorry. Um," the boy, Ashton, rambles, stuttering with red cheeks. Michael giggles.

 "It's fine. So, Ashton, what is it you need today?" Michael asks, standing, kitten still in hand. Ashton takes a look at the cat and practically jumps a foot back.

 "What's wrong? Are you scared of cats?" Michael laughs, stepping closer, holding out the calico, "C'mon, she doesn't bite. Much."

 Ashton shakes his head fervently, "No, I'm, um- I'm allergic. Like, severely. I, uh, puff up and get hives. Not pretty. Um, do- do you mind putting her down?" He asks, biting his lip, like he's afraid Michael will say no.

 Michael complies immediately, walking back around to the kitten's cage and locking her in. He beats the cat hair off of his uniform and rubs on some hand sanitizer before returning to Ashton. Ashton's visibly relaxed when Michael sees him again, more at ease with the absence of the cat. He smiles gratefully at Michael.

 "Um, thanks. Sorry, you're probably wondering why I came to the cat sector when I'm allergic, that seems kind of weird, but there were no ground employees out so the cashier just told me to come back to you and unfortunately you were where my biggest enemy lies. Sorry I made you put the cat away," Ashton babbles, and Michael would usually be annoyed, but he's so enraptured by this anxious boy with kitten allergies that he doesn't really mind. It's cute, honestly.

"It's perfectly fine. The store's business has been really slow lately, so our boss said anyone who wants to go home can. That's why no one's here. What did you come here for today, Ashton?"

Ashton lights up, like he's just remembered why he's here.

"Oh, yeah! Um, well, my flat mate moved out recently, moved in with his boyfriend, and it's been really quiet around the apartment lately? It feels kind of dead. I told my flat mate so, and he was just like, 'dude, go get a pet or something.' So I was like, yeah, okay. A pet. But, I'm allergic to practically anything with fur. Can you help?" Ashton finally asks, slightly out of breath from his jabbering. Michael gives him a once over, trying to gather as much information as he can from just looking at Ashton. He notices a book sticking out of his messenger bag, and there's a bookmark covered in pictures of ducks and parakeets and toucans and parrots in it, and Michael giggles.

"What about feathers?" He asks.

 Ashton lights up like a Christmas tree.

 

 Michael leads Ashton over to the bird cages and watches fondly as Ashton fawns over the different birds, the yellow canaries and exotic parrots, the singing bluebirds and screeching parakeets. He's entranced with the birds and Michael's entranced with Ashton. (It almost hurts Michael that this feeling won't last long. It never does.)

"See anything you like?" Michael asks. Ashton jumps out of his reverie and grins widely. It's the most relaxed Michael has seen him yet.

"Tons. I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner. I love birds. Always have. Thank you so much," Ashton gushes, and _god,_ Michael wants to kiss him.

"Mind if I recommend one?" He inquires instead. Kissing strangers is only allowed in bars, he thinks.

Ashton, still smiling and brimming with excitement, shakes his head. "Go on!"

"This one here is my personal favorite. Her name is Queenie," he says, gesturing to the big, blue parakeet sitting in the corner, further away from the other birds. Michael thinks he and Queenie have a lot in common.

Michael can pinpoint the moment Ashton falls in love with the bird. He sees it in his eyes -- they glaze over in adoration, and his lips curl into a small smile.

"Can I take her?" He asks, sticking a hand next to Queenie. Queenie sniffs him a little bit and perches on his finger. Ashton giggles, and Michael can say it's one of the most beautiful sounds he's ever heard in his life.

"Of course."

 

Michael helps Ashton gather bird care necessities and rings him up himself, despite the cashier still being there. He makes small talk with Ashton and chuckles when Ashton asks Queenie questions and she squawks in response.

Michael hands Ashton the survey that every customer is supposed to take at checkout, a review of how their experience at the store was and their encounter with the employees. Ashton fills it out with his tongue poking out of his lip, and he looks like he hesitates before marking the paper one last time. He hands it back to Michael.

"You're supposed to put it in the box," Michael says. Ashton huffs, but he looks anxious when he says,

"Just keep it," and promptly runs out of the store.

 

Ashton goes home with a new friend and Michael goes home with Ashton's number. Michael fell in love today.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Michael doesn't forget about Ashton. He doesn't call him, or text him, but he keeps the slip of paper with his number written in chicken-scratch folded up on his nightstand. He goes to bed and stares at the paper, considers getting in touch with the boy, at least ask him how Queenie likes her new home. But in the end, he decides against it and turns over onto his other side. What would the point be in calling him? Make Ashton believe he's interested and then turn him down before they can even try? Flirt with him mercilessly and back off when he's had his fill, or when Ashton decides that he wants more? Michael's tired of breaking hearts. He almost wants his broken, even. He wonders what it's like, to be so in love with someone, to only have them push you away. He wonders what it's like to be in so deep that the thought of resurfacing sounds like the end. A voice inside Michael's head tells him that he'll never know.

He thinks about the article he read a lot. He tries to ignore that the three "symptoms" fit him exactly, but he can't - not when he's felt those things a million times over. They fit him to a T. He feels broken. Only broken people don't want love.

 

 

"Luke and I are throwing a house-warming party tomorrow night. You're coming, right?" Calum asks, voice riddled with static, muffled through the phone.

Michael rolls his eyes.

"He moved in with you two weeks ago. He was unofficially living with you for even longer. Is there really a point to a house-warming party? It's not like you just bought the flat, either. You just kicked me out."

Calum scoffs through the phone.

"We didn't kick you out, Mikey. You practically jumped at the offer. Which was very rude, by the way. Luke still can't shake the feeling that you hate him."

Michael huffs a laugh. Calum is exaggerating; Luke knows Michael loves him nearly as much as he loves Calum. They might have gotten off to a rougher start, but that was when they were thirteen. Michael was just jealous because Luke had flippy hair. He wouldn't say that to Luke, though.

"Whatever. I'll go to your damn party."

He laughs when he hears Calum shout out to Luke, "We've won, Lucas! He's leaving his cave!"

 

Michael wishes he had said no the party. There are too many people gathered around Luke and Calum's living room, and even more scattered throughout the house. He can't really breathe.

He doesn't know where Luke and Calum made all these friends. It's only ever been the three of them. They had their collective friends, Niall and Harry and Taylor and others, but they were never the most social. They didn't really get out there all that much. He's not sure when Calum and Luke had the time to meet these people, or where they developed the social skills. Maybe Michael spends too much time in his room.

He stands awkwardly in the corner of the living room, a can of Coke in hand because alcohol's never made him feel good, watching people make drunken asses of themselves. They're all having fun, standing too close to each other and sharing drinks and magical tablets. There's not a sober soul in sight.

Michael sighs and shuffles his way into the kitchen, hoping to find one of the party hosts. He wants to go home.

He takes a step into the kitchen and exhales in defeat when he sees neither Luke nor Calum are in there. He huffs to himself - they've probably been fucking like rabbits since the first few guests walked through the threshold. He hasn't seen them all night.

The kitchen isn't crowded, thankfully. There are only a few wandering souls lingering, a couple making out in a corner. One person, standing next to the sink and breathing heavily, stands out to him in particular.

Michael almost chokes on his own tongue when he realizes -- _it's Ashton._

Then, he proceeds to freak out.

_Oh, god, what if he yells at me? What if he's mad at me for not calling him? What if  I made him upset? What if he hates me?_

_Oh, god..._

_What if he's forgotten about me?_

 

The last one freaks him out the most. He's about to turn around and bolt, but his mouth betrays him.

"Ashton? Is that you?" _Michael, you are an idiot._

Ashton turns around, and his eyes light up when they land on Michael. He smiles widely, but his body is tense and he looks like he's about to burst with nervousness. Michael's endeared. He walks up to Ashton in a few short strides.

"Hey mate, what are you doing here?" He asks, smiling down at Ashton.

"Um. Luke used to be my roommate. You know, before he moved in with Calum," Ashton stutters out, eyes directed at the floor.

"Really? That's so weird," Michael exclaims, "I used to be Calum's roommate! He and Luke are my best friends. How have we not met before? This is crazy," he's rambling and he knows it, but Ashton looks like he's loosening up, so he doesn't have it in himself to feel embarrassed.

"Yeah, it is. They've been dating forever. You'd think we'd have at least met once," Ashton concurs.

"The bastards didn't even think to introduce us!"

Ashton giggles, and Michael counts it as a win. They lull into a silence, and it's an awkward one. Michael's desperate for something to pick up conversation, so he blurts,

"So, how's Queenie?"

At the same time, Ashton asks,

"Why didn't you call?"

 Both of their eyes widen, and Ashton looks like he's going to puke. He's gaping, shocked at what's just come out of his own mouth. His eyes are wide behind his glasses, glazed over.

 "I- I shouldn't have- I shouldn't have said th-that. I'm so- I'm so sorry. I-I'm so fucking-," Ashton stutters, words coming out in breathy spurts, and oh god, Michael knows what's  happening. He's been through it with Luke, even had a few himself - Ashton's having a panic attack right before his eyes. And it's not just heavy breathing and a steady flow of tears -- Ashton's got it worse than Michael has ever seen.

 "Ashton - Ash, it's- it's okay! It's okay. Just- just breathe with me, okay? It's going to be alright. Breathe," Michael says, panicking a bit himself. He's never witnessed such an intense attack - Ashton's anxiety is nearly choking him.

He reaches out and rubs the sides of Ashton's arms in an effort to calm him down, and he relaxes into the touch, but his breathing doesn't slow down any. Michael racks his brain to pick out any information he's gathered about anxiety.

"Count with me, yeah?" He asks, and he's not sure if Ashton is understanding him, but the boy nods his head, so Michael takes it as an affirmative.

"One," inhale.

"Two," exhale.

"Three," inhale.

By the time they reach fifteen, Ashton is breathing normally, albeit a bit shakily. He offers Michael a small, shy smile.

"That was embarrassing," he chokes out.

Michael chuckles quietly, looks at Ashton with fond eyes.

"No, it wasn't. You couldn't control that," he says, trying to bring Ashton some comfort. Ashton looks at him thankfully, and then his eyes dart around the room, as if looking for an exit.

"Do you want to get out of here? We can head over to my place," Michael offers, because he's been looking for an exit for at least an hour and a half, and he wouldn't mind wasting some time with Ashton. But only after Ashton's eyes widen at Michael's proposition, does Michael realize the implications of what he just said. He backtracks.

"Wait, no-not like that. I- I mean, like, do you want to hang out? Like, actual hanging out. Not like- no dirty things. Um," Michael is rambling, and he sounds like a Grade-A Idiot, but Ashton's giggling and nodding his head.

"Yeah, I'd love to go with you," he agrees.

Michael grins in relief.

"Cool. C'mon, it's only a few doors down," he says, grabbing Ashton's hand mindlessly, dragging him through the throngs of dancing, drunken people. Ashton is glad that it's dark in the flat, or someone could spot the red on his cheeks from the feeling of Michael's hand in his.

They stop momentarily on the way out for Michael to talk to Taylor. She's drunk as mess, flushed cheeks and flailing limbs, giggles bursting from her mouth every few seconds.

Michael tells her, "Hey, if you see Luke or Calum, tell them that the party was lovely, but Michael and Ashton just weren't feeling it."

She grins brightly and nods, and Michael just played telephone with a drunk person, so he knows Calum and Luke won't get the message. Taylor's wasted past the point where she didn't even ask him to stay and dance with her.

He continues holding Ashton's hand until they're outside of Michael's flat, and he only lets go so he can fiddle for his keys and unlock the door. He's smiling as he leads Ashton into his home, a hand on the boy's lower back. The intimacy of the touch doesn't get to him, but Ashton's cheeks are flaming.

Michael sits them down on his couch with two cans of Coke and a bag of Lays, and they sit in silence for a moment. Ashton, surprisingly, is the one who breaks it.

"Sorry about earlier. Um, I was already on edge, because of all the people, but then I asked that ridiculous question, and I guess that threw me over," he apologizes. Michael doesn't think he needs to.

"Nah, it's alright. It wasn't your fault."

"You handled it well, do you have experience with anxiety?" Ashton asks curiously, pushing his glasses up with his forefinger. It's a cliché nerd move, and Michael thinks it's adorable.

"A little bit. You lived with Luke, right?"

Ashton nods.

"Well, he used to get them a lot, when we were kids. He was super anxious, like, all the time. The first time I met his mom, she briefed me on what to do when he had attacks," Michael chuckles.

 Ashton's eyes widen.

"Really? I would've never thought he had anxiety."

Michael nods. "He's gotten much, much better. He's a lot more confident, now. Bit of a party boy."

Ashton giggles and hums in agreement. They fall back into a silence, much different than the one in the kitchen at the party. This one is easy, comfortable.

 The question Ashton asked earlier nags him, and he feels obligated to explain, but he's not sure how. He doesn't really know why he didn't contact Ashton, except he kind of does. He decides now is not the best time to tell Ashton about how messed up his brain is.

 

 They pick up conversation later on, and Michael finds that once Ashton's moved past the whole "meeting-new-people-awkwardness" phase, he's easily the most charming, charismatic, loud person he's ever met. Ashton, once he's broken through his shell, is boisterous, animated. Michael feels like he just watched a flower bloom in his presence.

He learns a lot about Ashton in the time they talk, like how Ashton aspires to be a writer, how he's got a brother and sister back in Sydney, how his anxiety keeps him from showing who he really is to people. The only person who's really met and accepted him is Luke, and Luke is easily his best friend.

Michael could listen to Ashton talk for days. Instead, he listens to him talk until it's four AM, and they've both fallen asleep on Michael's couch.

 

Michael's fallen in love with this boy for the second time.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
